After his death Judith trapped rabbits and caught fish. She did many things besides, however, as by that time family funds were so low and the farm so unproductive it was necessary for some member of the family to begin to make money. She was fourteen at the time her grandfather died—a slim long-legged girl giving promise of the beauty that the old soldiers and the drummer on the Rye House porch acknowledged later on. Even then the wire-spring energy was hers that still puzzled her mother—energy and an ever-present determination to get ahead. Sometimes she caught enough fish to sell a few. Sometimes she carried rabbits into the town for sale. In blackberry season she was an indefatigable picker. She went in for 57 chickens and had steady customers in Louisville for her guaranteed eggs. School was looked upon as part of the business of getting ahead. Nothing in the way of weather daunted her. She went through the high school with flying colors and got a medal for not having missed a single day in four years.
At nineteen she was teaching school for eight months of the year and the other four peddling toilet articles and a few side lines and now planning to feed the motormen on the interurban trolleys.
“Well, well! I guess she got it from the Norse sailor,” sighed Mrs. Buck picking up another potato.
CHAPTER V
Uncle Billy’s Diplomacy
The hall bedroom at Buck Hill was not such a small room, except in comparison with the other rooms, which were enormous. There was plenty of space in it for Miss Ann and a reasonable amount of luggage, but not for Miss Ann and three trunks and the numerous bags and bundles and boxes, which Billy stowed away, endeavoring to make the place as comfortable as possible for his beloved mistress.
“I’ll unstrop yo’ trunks an’ we kin git unpacked an’ then I’ll tote the empties up in the attic ’ginst the time we ’cides ter move on,” he said, looking sadly at Miss Ann as she sank listlessly in a chair. Miss Ann allowed herself to be listless in the presence of Billy, and Billy alone. At the sound of a step on the stairs she stiffened involuntarily. Nobody must find Ann Peyton slouching or down-hearted. It was only Mildred going up for a last look at the guest chamber, to make sure everything was in readiness for her company. She did not come to 59 her old cousin’s room so Miss Ann felt at liberty to relax once more.
“Billy, I am not going to unpack yet,” she faltered. “I—I—perhaps we may have to start off again in a hurry.”